The old Lightcrafter shifted his wands moodily, propelling the illusion of a pirouetting girl back and forth across a weathered stone by the river. Young Cvoa shifted his own wands, although nothing additional appeared in front of them.

"It's all worthless," murmured the old man. "You should give up lightcrafting and find an honest trade. Shadow and glimmer, lies and the hollow promises, that's all it is."

"Please, not this again," said Cvoa. "Teach me something new."

The old man didn't seem to hear. "When I was your age, I thought the illusions were just the beginning. That's the way it feels, eh? Just a prelude to something marvelous around the corner. Well, there is no corner, boy. Just a wandering path that ends in a desert."

Cvoa finally gave up. When the old man started in like this he would sometimes go on for hours. Cvoa stared off into the broken bits of sunlight that shimmered on the surface of the river and let his wands drop--making the old man disappear.